


Love, Run

by Civilized_muppets



Series: Bringer of Destruction [2]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Deity Jaskier | Dandelion, Immortal Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion as Persephone (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), M/M, Non-Human Jaskier | Dandelion, won't make sense if you don't read the first part
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 12:02:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29418342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Civilized_muppets/pseuds/Civilized_muppets
Summary: The forces of Nilfgaard scour the Continent for Princess Cirilla of Cintra. They spare no expense, exhaust every lead, spend every resource trying to locate the only remaining threat to their claim to Cintra.Jaskier, Persephone, whatever you want to call him, finds her first.
Relationships: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Jaskier | Dandelion, Ermion | Mousesack & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Hades/Persephone
Series: Bringer of Destruction [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2102988
Comments: 20
Kudos: 178





	1. Prologue

It was truly regrettable, Mousesack thought, that it would end this way

Cintra had fallen, Her Queen and Prince Consort with her, and her Princess on the run. Her people decimated or scattered in fear. Her castle surely being toppled at this very moment. 

Mousesack had held the castle for as long as he could, but he was but a simple Druid, and he couldn’t hold them all back for long. Still, he had bought them precious time, and he was proud of that. The Queen had ordered him to drink poison, but he had tried to see the Princess to safety first and was captured before he could fulfill the Queen’s order. 

The doppler was not a surprise, to be honest. He was a well-known friend of the royals, and Ciri would trust him, or what appeared to be him. He had known he wouldn’t survive from the moment he was captured. At least it was relatively quick.

Yes, it was regrettable that it had ended this way. 

But Mousesack had a plan.

Many years ago, he had had the fortune of making the acquaintance of His Majesty, King Persephone. The King had graciously granted him a favor that night, and though Mousesack had seen him several more times when the Queen invited what she believed to be a simple bard to her court for entertainment Mousesack had never collected his debt. 

He had died with the favor unfulfilled, and while normally this would mean that it never would be, the one who owed it to him was a resident of the Underworld, at least for half the year. And, luckily for Mousesack, it was nearing the end of Winter. King Persephone would still be in the Underworld when Mousesack arrived, but not for long, and by the time he returned it would likely be too late. Mousesack would have to move quickly.

The ground beneath him shifted from dirt to coarse black sand. The pain from the stab wound was gone, though his clothing was still torn and bloodied where the knife had pierced him. He picked himself up off the ground and looked around frantically. He needed an audience with the King and he needed it  _ now. _

It wasn’t long before he spotted Charon, the ferryman, and Calanthe, his no longer queen. She didn’t look much different from the last he had seen her, or her corpse, rather. Eist was next to Calanthe, and she appeared to be arguing with the ferryman about something. As Mousesack drew closer, he began to be able to hear them.

“-a Queen! Why should I have to wait with the common folk to be Judged!”

The ferryman spoke in a raspy, annoyed voice. “For the last time, your mortal titles mean nothing in the Underworld. There are only two Kings here, and you are certainly not one of them. Besides, I have heard from the others I have escorted across this river of your hand in the so-called “great cleansing”. If I were you, I would not be so eager to be Judged.”

Mousesack drew closer and got a better look at the ferryman. He was a gaunt man wearing a strange kind of clothing that looked to be one long cloth arranged to cover him. It was pinned up on one of his shoulders and toed about his waist, so part of his chest was visible. His ribs were well defined, his cheeks sunken in. It looked almost like his dark skin was stretched directly over his skeleton. His eyes were not like normal eyes, but rather they were small pinpricks of light in the middle of deep chasms of nothingness. 

Mousesack got the feeling that if he were still alive the sight would frighten him, but for some reason now that he was dead it did not shock him in the least. 

He walked up to the ferryman and waited for the minor god to turn to him. When he did, Mousesack bowed slightly.

“Noble ferryman, I am the Druid Mousesack. I made the acquaintance of His Majesty the King while he was on the surface many years ago, and I’m afraid I must speak with him urgently.”

The ferryman scrutinized him for a moment and nodded slowly. He raised his arm, and a crow swooped down from the sky- was it called a sky down here?- and landed on his forearm.

“Tell His Majesty King Persephone that the Druid Mousesack has asked for an audience immediately.”

The crow cawed and flew off in what he assumed was the direction of the palace. The Ferryman turned back to him.

“I do not believe you are lying, Druid, but for your sake, I hope you are not,” he said. Mousesack nodded his acceptance.

“I thought Persephone was a woman? And when on  _ earth _ did you meet a god?” Calanthe asked in shock.

“Common misconception.  _ King  _ Persephone is most certainly a man. I met him around the same time you met him. Though most mortals do not recognize him when he’s on the surface. I only did because I am devoted to Nature, which King Persephone is an important god of.”

Calanthe blinked in shock before regaining her composure, but before she could say anything the crow returned. It landed on the ferryman’s shoulder and cawed twice. Charon seemingly understood what this meant, as he nodded and looked towards Mousesack again. 

“The King has agreed to speak with you. Come, I will take you across the river in the next boat.”

Mousesack got into the small boat with the other souls whose turn it was, much to Calanthe’s dismay. Mousesack almost felt guilty for making a soul wait longer than they would have, but whichever soul he displaced will get across the river eventually.

Cirilla did not have that kind of time.

When the boat docked on the other side, there was a guard in strange armor waiting to escort Mousesack to the palace. The walk was a long one, passed the line of people waiting to be Judged, passed the Cerberus, a massive three-headed dog that guarded the gates to the palace, and into the palace itself. 

The palace was more lavish than any he had ever seen, and he had seen several castles in his time as Calanthe’s Court Druid. Mousesack was in awe of all the gold and jewels and briefly wondered if all the palaces of the gods looked like this, before remembering that King Hades was the God of Riches as well as the Dead and the Underworld. His palace was probably more opulent than King Zeus’ and King Posideon’s combined.

The guard led him through the hallways of the palace, passed servants rushing to complete their duties and other guards patrolling the halls. Mousesack even thought he caught a few glimpses of the other gods in King Hades’ court. Finally, they came to a large set of double doors that the guard opened and waved him through.

The doors lead back outside, to what he presumed to be King Persephone’s garden, if it could even be called that. The gardens stretched as far as the eye could see. The trees and bushes were lush and beautiful, flowers and berries in full bloom despite it being Winter. Every plant in the garden seemed to sparkle with life. The grass was the greenest he had ever seen, broken up by stone pathways that lead off in different directions. He could only see the end of one, the one that led straight ahead.

At the end of the path was a massive, beautiful pomegranate tree. The pomegranates looked more like enormous rubies than edible fruits. The trunk of the tree was the width of several men, the branches stretched far into what would be considered the sky.

From behind the tree, King Persephone appeared. He looked much different than what Mousesack had previously known of him. His clothing was as dramatic as ever, but looked less like that of a performer and more like that of the King he was. The doublet, buttoned all the way up to his throat, and trousers were made of rich royal purple silks trimmed with what looked like real golden thread. The sleeves were fitted until his elbow, where the fabric opened and hung towards the ground. White undersleeves ran down the rest of his arm, ending in a point over the backs of his ring adorned hands.

In terms of jewels, he wore plenty. Besides the aforementioned rings, several necklaces of different lengths hung around his neck, each with large gemstones attached to them. He wore golden bangles and deep purple amethysts had been pierced through his ears. 

None of them compared, however, to the King’s crown. It was unlike any royal crown Mousesack had ever seen, but it was the most striking by far. The crown was made up of seven flowers composed of precious gems. A peach-colored topaz, a purple calla lily, a white chamomile, a purple heliotrope, a pink chrysanthemum, and a blue borago. If Mousesack remembered his flower meanings correctly, they stood for various declarations of love, resilience, and power. 

The god himself was even different. Mousesack couldn’t quite place it, but there was something newly inhuman about him. He seemed almost otherworldly, almost as though he should be glowing. Too bright, too perfect. There wasn’t a single imperfection in his face, not a single hair was out of place. All in all, he looked much less  _ human _ than he had when Mousesack had previously encountered him. 

His new King grinned widely at him, throwing open his arms in greeting. “Mousesack! I’d say it’s a pleasure to see you, but given you have recently become one of my subjects I doubt you’d appreciate it.”

Oh, right, he was dead now, wasn’t he? His life on the surface was over. He would likely never see some of his friends ever again, depending on where they and he ended up after being Judged. He was a true resident of the Underworld now.

He would have time to freak out about that later. Right now, Ciri needed him to stay together.

Mousesack went to kneel before the god who was now, properly, his King, but King Persephone stopped him.

“Oh, none of that now, I think we’ve known each other for long enough that we can drop the formality, yes? At least when no one else is around,” the King said.

Mousesack rose back up to his full height, but still bowed his head. “Of course, Your Majesty.”

King Persephone smiled at him. “Now, I doubt you asked to speak with me urgently just to say hello. What is it you wanted to speak about?”

Mousesack took a deep breath. He did not know how big or small the favor he had been granted was, and he did not know if his request would be granted. But, for his former Princess, he had to try. 

“The Princess of Cintra, Cirilla. Does she live still?”

He thought she did, as he hadn’t seen her on the banks of the River Styx, but he had to be sure. King Persephone frowned in thought.

“You know, I’m not really sure. I am not in charge of that sort of thing, but! I do know who is. Lord Thanatos can probably tell us.”

King Persephone held out his arm, much like Charon had on the bank of the River, and, just like before, a crow came down and landed on it.

“Tell Lord Thanatos that King Persephone requests his presence in the garden,” the King told the crow. The crow cawed and flew off. King Persephone turned back to him.

“He should be here shortly. While we wait, would you like something to eat? The fruit in this garden is always ripe when I’m here, you can have anything you’d like.”

Mousesack hesitated, but only for a moment. He’d heard that if one ate the food on the Underworld they’d be stuck here forever. He was dead though, and would not be leaving regardless. There was no harm in taking the King up on his offer. Besides, King Persephone had never been anything but kind to him, and he doubted he would have nefarious intentions now. 

“Do you have raspberries, my liege?”

King Persephone smiled as though he’d made a joke. “Dear Druid, I have  _ everything. _ Every plant known to man, and every plant unknown to man, is in this garden. If you want raspberries, then that’s a simple enough request.”

The King snapped his fingers, and a bowl of the tastiest looking raspberries Mousesack had ever seen appeared in his hands, which the King then handed to him. Mousesack nodded his thanks and popped one into his mouth, nearly moaning at the exquisite taste. These raspberries might just be the greatest food he had ever eaten. 

The double doors opened, and another god stepped through. He had long, straight black hair that was tied up at his nape. His skin was as pale as a corpse, his eyes as dark as the void. He was wearing the same kind of strange clothing that Charon was wearing, but his were black where Charon’s had been white. Large, black wings stretched out behind him. The god bowed to King Persephone.

“Your Majesty. You called for me?”

Persephone nodded. “You may rise, Lord Thanatos. I have a question. Princess Cirilla of Cintra. Has she died?”

The God of Death rose back up to his full height. “What is her full name?”

King Persephone looked at Mousesack to answer the question.

“Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, my lord.”

Lord Thanatos nodded, and in his hands a book appeared, which he began flipping through the pages of. “She lives on the Continent?”

“Yes,” Mousesack answered.

The Death God nodded. “And when did you last see her alive?”

“Around three days ago.”

The god continued to flip through the pages of the book, and Mousesack held his breath, fearing for the worst news imaginable, that he was too late.

After several minutes, Lord Thanatos closed the book with a  _ snap. _ “She is not in the Book of The Dead, Your Majesty. Therefore, I can only assume that she is alive.”

King Persephone smiled at him. “Thank you, Lord Thanatos. You may return to your duties now.”

Lord Thanatos bowed deeply. “Always a pleasure to serve you, Your Majesty.” He then spun on his heel and went back the way he came. King Persephone turned back to Mousesack.

“I doubt that was all you wanted to know.”

Mousesack took a deep breath. Now or never, he supposed. “No, it is not. I believe, my King, that you owe me a favor.”

King Persephone raised an eyebrow, putting his hands behind his back. “Yes, Druid, I do. You should know, however, that I can only do what is within my power to do. I cannot bring you back to life, and I cannot influence your Judgement or overturn it.”

Mousesack shook his head. “No, Your Majesty, nothing like that. You return to the surface soon, yes?”

“In two days’ time,” the King responded.

“Then this is what I ask of you: protect Ciri, and lead her to Geralt of Rivia. Once she is with him, then your favor will be fulfilled.”

The King tilted his head, seeming to consider his proposition. Then, he nodded decisively and held out his hand. Mousesack grasped it, and a golden thread appeared, wrapping around their joined hands.

“I will find Princess Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon of Cintra when I return to the surface. I will protect her and guide her to Geralt of Rivia. Once she is with him, then my end of the bargain has been fulfilled. Do you agree, Druid Mousesack?” The King stated.

“Yes,” Mousesack agreed.

King Persephone smiled. “So it has been agreed upon, so it shall be.” The golden thread grew brighter for a moment and then disappeared. The King released his hand and grinned at him.

“Now, it doesn’t make sense for you to go all the way back across the River now that you’re already here. So why don’t you go to the back of the line for Judgement? I can’t let you skip the line any more than I already have, unfortunately. Can’t be seen showing favoritism, you understand,” he said.

Mousesack nodded. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

A guard appeared in the doorway and gestured for him to follow. The King waved goodbye at him as the doors closed behind him, and the guard led him back through the palace, passed the Cerberus, and to the back of the line. 

Mousesack stood behind a stranger's soul, the same stranger he would likely be standing behind for some time. And for the first time since he had heard of the fall of Eist in battle, he had true hope for the future of Cintra. 

  
  



	2. Interlude

“I don’t like this, flower.”

Persephone glanced at Hades’ reflection in the mirror. He was sitting in a chair across the room from Persephone, already undressed down to his small clothes. Persephone, who tended to wear much more elaborate clothing, was still working on getting down to the same state of undress. The Spring god sighed and looked down to unbutton his doublet.

“I’m not particularly fond of the prospect either, darling,” he said.

Suddenly, there were arms wrapping around his waist. Hades must have moved quickly to get all the way across their expansive chambers in the time it took for Persephone to undo three buttons, and he did it completely silently as well. He may have even traveled through the shadows to do it. Anyone else would have been startled. Persephone, who had been married to his beloved husband for millennia, merely glanced at Hades’ reflection in slight annoyance before returning to his task.

“Then why did you agree to it?” Hades questioned, resting his chin on Persephone’s shoulder.

Persephone sighed. “The Fates bid me to grant the Druid that favor. This is clearly what they had in mind. I would be a fool to try and go against them, you know that.”

Hades gave a low hum of discontent. “I am aware. I just worry for you, seeing the Witcher so soon after he said those cruel things to you.”

Persephone smirked at his husband's reflection as he undid the final button. “Who said I was going to see him?”

Hades scrunched his eyebrows in confusion. “You agreed to lead the girl to him, did you not?”

Persephone turned to face his husband completely, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Yes, but I never said I would hand her off to him. Nor did I say our path to him would be direct.”

Hades grinned, brushing Persephone’s doublet off his shoulders, letting it fall to the ground without a care. Persephone spared a brief thought about how that doublet was worth more than most mortals would accumulate throughout their entire lives, including some kings, before he was thoroughly distracted by being kissed. 

Even after millennia of marriage this never got stale. Hades was just as good a kisser now as he was when he had kissed Persephone for the first time in that barren field in Greece, far away from any prying eyes. And just as he had then, Persephone melted into it, wrapping his arms around Hades’ neck and letting his husband take his full weight. He knew that Hades would never let him fall. 

Neither of them needed to breathe, so it was quite some time before they pulled away from each other. They didn’t go far, barely inches apart, and stared into each other's eyes. When Hades spoke, it was in a low murmur.

“What cunning plan have you concocted, my love?”

Persephone grinned mischievously. “It goes like this: I will find the girl immediately upon returning to the surface. I will lead her in circles while keeping us both safe until the end of Spring, when I will lead her to the Witcher. I will make sure she gets to him, and then I will come straight back home for the year. Is that agreeable, dear heart?”

Hades nodded. “You must be careful, petal. The first Nilfgaardian soldiers who died after they took Cintra have been judged. They had quite a few things to say. The whole army is looking for the princess and the Witcher, and, by extension, the bard Jaskier.” 

Persephone frowned. It would be Spring, and he would be a major god at the height of his power, but even he would have trouble if he had to take on a whole army alone. He knew what Nilfgaard did to those who had information they wanted. Most of them were now his subjects. 

The risk that he would actually get caught was an incredibly small one, the chance that they would know how or have the means to properly trap him even smaller, and he would not die from their torture. Besides, it wouldn’t be long before Hades would know to start looking for him. It wasn’t unheard of for Persephone to take a few days to respond to one of Hades’ weekly letters, but they had agreed long ago that Persephone would never take longer than three days to return a letter if he could help it. Hades sent him a letter every week, so he would only be held for two before Hades found him. Still, it was a situation that he would rather avoid altogether. 

“Then I will not be Jaskier. I’ll pick a new name, conceal my face when I can, make the mortal’s eyes slide right over me when I can’t. I’ll give up being a bard for now, try not to draw attention to either myself or the girl. And, if all else fails, then I will take a platoon of hoplites with me. I should not need them, but just in case they will be there.” 

Hades smiled softly at him, resting his forehead against Persephone’s. “Thank you for doing that. It will give me peace of mind.”

Persephone smiled back at him. “Of course, darling.”

They were interrupted by a small  _ yip _ coming from the bed. When they glanced over, they saw Buddy, Scout, and Champ on their back, tongues rolling out of their mouths. Hades raised an eyebrow. 

“Are you supposed to be on the furniture?

The currently puppy-sized Cerberus gave another excited  _ yip _ and wagged its tail. Hades and Persephone rolled their eyes. 

While most mortals thought there was only one Cerberus that guarded the palace, in reality there were seven. Each took a four-hour shift at the gates and then had one day off a week. Today was Buddy, Scout, and Champ’s day off. 

While they were guarding the gates, the Cerberus’ were massive, almost as tall as the palace itself. When they were off duty, they were small enough that they could be placed inside a bag and carried around. They were essentially the mascots of the underworld, much beloved by every inhabitant of the castle and spoiled rotten, especially by the Kings and their court. 

That didn’t mean that they were supposed to be on the furniture, though.

Hades walked over to the Cerberus and picked them up, ignoring the combined triple force of puppy dog eyes, and placed them on their dog bed across the room. Scout, the middle head, put his nose between their front paws, while Buddy and Champ, the left and right heads respectively, huffed and turned away from Hades and Persephone. Persephone rolled his eyes again.

“Dramatic little puppies, aren’t you?”

Hades came up behind him and wrapped his arms around his waist again, leaning forward to whisper in his ear. “Now that the little menaces are off the bed, what do you say we put it to good use?”

Persephone smirked and turned around in Hades’ arms, pressing a heated kiss to his lips. “Beloved, I thought you’d never ask.”

***

Two days later, Persephone, Hades, and their court stood in the throne room. Persephone was dressed down in inconspicuous clothing and a dark cloak. They were still made out of fine materials, of course, but he would be more than capable of blending in with a crowd of common folk while he led the Princess of Cintra to Geralt of Rivia, albeit in a very roundabout way. He had packed more of this kind of clothing, including clothing that should fit a thirteen-year-old girl, as he doubted the Princess had any that would be suitable. 

Hades stepped forward and pressed one last kiss to Persephone’s lips. “Keep me updated on your journey, flower.”

Persephone smiled at him. “Of course, darling.”

Melinoe gave him one last hug goodbye, and Thanatos gave him a friendly clap on the shoulder. Alecto, Megaera, and Tisiphone screeched their farewell, Nyx and her daughter Alchys waved. Minos, Rhadamanthus, and Aeacus, the Judges, as well as Charon, bowed deeply, always more formal than they had to be, even when it was just the court. 

Persephone grinned at all of them and used his black opal necklace to open a portal to the surface, waving as he walked through to the woods in the middle of nowhere-

And straight into a child.

Persephone and the child stared at each other for a moment in shock as the portal closed behind him. The girl had white-blonde hair, green eyes, and looked to be barely a teenager. She was dressed in torn and battered but expensive clothing and a royal blue cloak. Persephone glanced at his wrist, where the thread of destiny had tied him to the Princess when he made his oath to Mousesack and- yes, that thread definitely led to the girl in front of him.

_ Well, _ Persephone thought in a state of bewilderment,  _ that was easy.  _

  
  



	3. Let The World Come At You, Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this chapter and the next was supposed to be one chapter, but I reached a good stopping point so I decided to split it in two. I hope you enjoy!

Ciri had not been having a good time recently.

Cintra had fallen, and her Grandmother and Eist had died with it. She was on the run from Nilfgaard, and they were relentless like nothing else. She had learned that her Grandmother had had a hand in a genocide, her friend Mousesack had been killed and replaced by a doppler, and her only companion had left her. She had no idea how to be on the run successfully and had almost been caught several times.

Like now, for instance.

She was only a few hundred yards ahead of the Nilfgaardian soldiers chasing her. Her lungs were on fire, her feet sore from wearing shoes definitely not made for travel on foot. She didn’t know how she was going to get out of this one. 

Barely feet away from her, a portal opened up before her and a man stepped out of it, and they collided. She hadn’t displaced him, though, not pushed him back at all. They stared at each other in shock for a long moment, before the man's blue eyes moved to look behind her and narrowed.

“Run, dear. I’ll handle them.” The man spoke in a melodic voice.

He didn’t have to tell her twice. 

She ran, further into the woods, until she could run no longer and had to lean against a tree to gather her breath. It wasn’t much further, she was ashamed to admit, but she hadn’t exactly been eating or sleeping well these past few days. She was still catching her breath when she heard the screams. 

There were many voices, all at once, screaming in panic and anguish. It reminded her of the night Cintra had been besieged. They reached a crescendo, and then all at once, stopped. 

She held her breath, hoping against hope that all the soldiers who were chasing her were dead and that she would live another day. She heard leaves crunching beneath feet heading towards her, only one, thank the gods, and readied her dagger to attack. 

It was the man.

He smiled at her, and now that she had time to properly look at him she did so. He had chestnut brown hair and cornflower blue eyes, fair skin, and a kind smile. He was fairly tall and dressed in dark clothing, and she felt like she had seen him somewhere before, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. All she knew was that the dark clothing he was wearing didn’t look right on him. He held his hands up in the universal gesture of surrender and began to speak.

“I mean you no harm, Princess. Quite the opposite in fact. I am a friend of Geralt of Rivia’s, and I can lead you to him.”

She stared at him in bewilderment. He knew who she was, and used the same line the doppler had when he had tricked her. She was immediately wary.

“And why should I trust you?” She asked him with narrowed eyes, her dagger still held in front of her.

He grinned at her, a mischievous thing that implied he found her funny. 

“My dear, if I wanted to harm you it would be incredibly easy and I would have no need to bother with trickery. I just killed thirty Nilfgaardian soldiers for you. A thirteen-year-old girl would be child's play,” he said.

He had a point there, she supposed. If the screams she had heard were any indication, he truly  _ wouldn’t _ have any trouble killing her. That didn’t mean she trusted him, though.

“Alright, say I believe you. What then?” She asked.

He smiled, not unkindly, and snapped his fingers. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her white-blond hair turn brown, chestnut brown just like his. She gasped, grabbing her hair to make sure. Yes, it was all brown now.

“You’re too recognizable, dear. The hair will go a long way in hiding you. We can pretend you’re my daughter, for the time being. And we need to get you out of those clothes. They’re practically destroyed, and they're too conspicuous anyhow. I have shoes for you, they’ll probably be much better for running than what you have on now. And I’ll need to teach you how to blend in with a crowd, as well.”

He had moved closer to her while he was talking, before gently taking her by the shoulders and leading her away. Despite her conviction not to trust him, this did not alarm her in the slightest. Maybe it was the shock. 

“Are… are you a Mage?” She asked him.

He gave her that mischievous smile again. “Something like that.”

He led her further away from where the bodies of the soldiers would be, and into a cave. She wasn’t sure how he knew it was there, but he clearly did, leading her straight to it. The cave was spacious and warm, a blessing in the late winter’s- or was it early spring now?- chill. The man snapped his fingers and a fire appeared in the center, and she gratefully went closer to it to warm her hands. 

“There, dear. You warm up, I’ll get some clothing together for you. I’ll leave while you change, if you’d like. Or I can conjure a screen and stay. Whatever you’d prefer,” the man said.

Ciri thought about it for a moment. If he left, he’d be taking the protection he offered, however dubious, with him. But if he stayed, she would be at her most vulnerable around a strange man. She weighed her options, before deciding that she wanted him to leave. She told him so, and he smiled gently at her and handed her the clothing he had pulled out of his bag. It was similar to his, dark and unassuming, but when she touched it she was startled at how high quality it was.

“Of course, whatever you want. I’ll be within earshot if you need me, alright dear?” 

She nodded, and he turned around towards the opening of the cave before he started and turned back around.

“Oh dear, I’ve been quite rude haven’t I? The names Dandelion, cub. I look forward to being your guide,” he said with a flourish.

Ciri nodded at him. “And I am Ci-Fiona.”

He winked at her in good humor. “You’re going to have to get more used to that name, Fiona. I can help you with that, I change my name all the time.”

This man- Dandelion- just kept getting stranger. She nodded at him again, and he smiled and left the cave. She looked at the neatly folded stack of clothing in her hand. 

Many strange things had happened to her in the last week or so. But this may just be the strangest.

-

“Now, Fiona, remember to act natural. You belong here, there's no one after you, there's no reason for you to worry. You’re just another child going to the market with your father, yes?” 

Dandelion had been coaching her on how to blend in with a crowd for a few days now. They had stayed in the woods in the meantime, the Mage- or maybe not a Mage, he still hadn’t given her a straight answer on that- providing for her far better than he could have ever provided for herself. He hunted and gathered, seeming to know his way around nature with ease. She’d asked him if he was a Druid, but he seemed to find that even more amusing than the question about him being a Mage. 

He had called her by the name Fiona far more often than was strictly necessary and referred to her as nothing else. She had to admit, it had definitely helped her get more used to it. Her hair had stayed the same brown as his, and as much as she missed the hair she had gotten from her mother she knew that it was necessary to stay hidden. 

Dandelion had deemed her good enough at practicing blending in in the forest to try doing it in an actual crowd. So, he was taking her into the nearest town to go into the market. It was a large town that plenty of travelers passed through, Nilfgaard hadn’t reached it yet, and if something went wrong he had assured her that they could portal away at a moment's notice. They wouldn’t be there long, an hour at most, but there were still plenty of opportunities for something to go wrong. 

Dandelion held out his hand for her to take, which she did, and together they walked into the town. They walked calmly, and with purpose, and acted like they belonged there, and just as he had assured her no one gave them a second glance. Her calmness began to be a little less faked and a little more real. 

The early spring winds came and chilled her cheeks, and she’s sure they would have chilled the rest of her to the bone if the clothing Dandelion had given her had not been so warm. Even still, she wrapped her grey cloak closer around herself, and Dandelion squeezed her hand comfortingly. 

He did most of the talking, this time around. Her job was simply to not draw attention. He battered with the merchants, but he had told her that he would only do so because not doing so would draw more attention. Everyone bartered, he said, unless they had enough coin to not worry about it, which would be odd for a pair of travelers. So he haggled just a bit, enough to show the merchant that he was just like every other traveler but not enough to stick out in their mind. 

He bought some food, dried meat and berries, things that would keep on the road. He bought them each some sweets too, and she didn’t know how he knew that she preferred strawberries on her sweets, but he did. The baker smiled at them.

“Your daughter looks much like you, good sir,” she said.

Dandelion smiled. “Yes, madam, we get that a lot. Now, about the bread…”

An hour after they went into the town, they were on their way out again. Ciri was eating her strawberry cupcake, one of Dandelion’s arms slung around her shoulders while the other held the bags. Then, around the corner, came a small troop of Nilfgaardian soldiers. 

Ciri tensed immediately, but Dandelion’s thumb stroked her shoulder comfortingly. He did not speak, but she suddenly heard his voice in her head.

_ Remember, dear. You are Fiona, daughter of Dan and Paisley, who died when you were young. You and your father are travelers, and your father takes odd jobs to pay your way. You only have as much to fear from Nilfgaard as every other commoner does. _

That settled it, he was a Mage. 

They continued walking, and when they came close to the soldiers they stepped off the path into the grass to let them by. There were only around five of them, and Dandelion had shown he could easily handle much more than that, but Ciri was still nervous. She just tried not to look any more nervous than the average commoner would.

One of the soldiers looked at them and narrowed his eyes at them, before stepping towards them. Ciri swallowed, and Dandelion tightened his grip around her shoulders.

_ Worst comes to worst, I am more than capable of handling five foot soldiers, dear. _

She took a deep breath and did her best to hold onto that.

“You two, who are you?” The soldier asked.

“I am Dan, and this is my daughter Fiona,” Dandelion replied evenly, looking the soldier in the eye.

The soldier narrowed his eyes further, and Ciri felt as though she couldn’t breathe, but before he could say anything else another soldier called out to him. “Come on! That’s clearly not the girl we’re looking for, she’s not blond! If you question every preteen girl we come across we’ll never be finished with this assignment!”

The soldier sighed and nodded. “As you were, then.”

Dandelion nodded at him, and gently steered her away, further down the trail. It was only when they were out of sight of the soldiers that Ciri felt she could breathe again. Dandelion steered her into the woods, back to their camp, and then knelt before her and put her arms around her in a hug.

“You’re alright, dear. You did so well, I’m so proud of you. I’m sorry about the soldiers at the end there, I truly didn’t think they would be this far north just yet. We’ll be more careful in the future, but if you keep blending in that well we’ll be just fine.”

She clutched his shoulders and shook and sobbed for a long while, while he stroked her back and hair and murmured how well she had done in her ear. It was a lot better than the other times she had shaken uncontrollably since Cintra had fallen, that was for sure. When she had finally calmed down, he pulled away and smiled at her. 

“You sit here, dear. I’ll pack up the camp and portal us further north. The further away from the bulk of Nilfgaard’s forces the better.”

She nodded slightly and watched as he quickly packed up their camp. Occasionally he’d snap his fingers and something would pack itself. Her conviction that he was a Mage was only growing stronger. 

Later that night, after he’d portaled them further north and reset up their camp, she was laying on her bedroll and trying to fall asleep. Her mind kept racing with what might have happened to her if she hadn’t run into Dandelion, how much longer she could have made it on her own. It wasn’t a pleasant thought. Finally, after a long while of this, Dandelion started to hum, and finally, softly sing. 

He had a pleasant voice, and she almost thought she’d heard it before. He knew how to stay on key and keep a tune, and she could feel herself finally relaxing already. After a few verses, she began to drift off to sleep, his soft voice ringing in her ears.

_ “Though some would harm you, none- not one- no none _

_ Will raise to you a hand nor thumb _

_ Not while by you I stand and hum…” _

  
  



End file.
